Time and Again
by Twisted Trans-Sister
Summary: He held so many blissful, happy years in his hands. But in one fell swoop, he lost his life and love. Nergal Jr x OC Based off of Grim Tales from Down Below. Rating may change.
1. Beginnings

Disclaimer: I don't own the Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy, nor Nergal Junior, nor the Grim Tales from Down Below. Those all belong to Maxwell Atoms and Bleedman. If I DID own Nergal Jr. I would probably keep him to myself.

Author's Note: I really, really fell in love with Grim Adventures from Down Below, and this had been written for a over a period of several months! My sole wish is that Bleedman reads this and gives me a thumbs up! If others grow to like it as well, a plus! Without further ado, here is Time and Again.

* * *

He was so young, but only in Nergal years.

It had been a long time since his hatchling years, from being a small, quiet, yet vicious and obtrusive boy to the man he was today. Junior, after many wild, rambunctious years with his cousin and friends at Endsville, was moving on. He'd matured mentally and physically, already taller than his father, hair thicker and longer. He'd become lean as his father, almost gangly, and with a healthy skin tone, not quite as pale as his youth. Junior, displeased with merely gaining over her schoolmates through fevered violence and quite often natural selection, fueled his intellect devouring books as Grim would devour souls, bringing him to new heights of philosophy. That being the major he would pursue, at Citysville University.

His mother wept in pride at her son growing up so quick. His father, dark face twisted with anxiousness was antsy about the entire thing, unsure of how healthy it was for his son to be away from his own kind, from demons and the like. But Junior was exhausted of life underground, away from people, the sun, and his potential to learn. He'd packed his bags with no help from his parents, gave them a few last farewell hugs, and took off for the surface without a backward glance.

"Charming…" he mused, as he walked towards his dorm room for the first time. It was January, the start of the new year. Junior had put off the fall semester for preparations, entry exams, budgeting, and the like. But in the crisp January air, he chose to let all things come as they may. His scarf, old, worn, but still comforting from the day he chose his human visage, fluttered like a butterfly in the wind, as he crunched along the snowy sidewalks, past many arriving students, unpacking their worldly possessions. Junior needed so little; the heaviest box he carried was full of philosophy books. Junior pondered everything he could, and the books were full of notes he'd written in them.

The roommate he'd gained was portly and merry, shaking Junior's slender, clawed hands in his fat ones, chuckling over the natural green tint of the sharp fingernails. He was a chuckler. It wasn't a bad room…two beds and two desks, shelves and closets, lamps for late night studies. Arnie, as his roommate had introduced himself, offered his companionship for the opening semester parties, and a free meal. Junior, in his usual, quiet manner, gently declined. Years of rejection from his schoolmates had formed a protective wall against potential disappointment…Junior preferred the expectant, ever-welcoming company of his books.

It would be three weeks into the semester when he finally met…her…

Later on, he would find no amount of poetic beautification proper enough to describe her luminosity, her mystery, her charm. But at the moment he saw her, everything he'd ever read about love, affection, and the opposite sex seemed to freeze in space, where time stopped itself, clock's ceased to churn their gears, and the only things mobile were him…and her.

It was an art show, to be exact. It was a macabre art show, with lights dimmed to accent the mystique and grotesque artwork, and despite Junior's preference for normality, a combination of his demonic blood and influence from his old friend Mandy lulled him to the show. Lilting music from the Venetian streets of Austria streamed from the speakers as people milled about, observing the art and making quiet critiques. Arnie, who had a delicate stomach, couldn't stand such mortifying art, and stayed away. Junior was wandering to the photography section, when a perfect, fate-changing bump led him to her…

She caught herself delicately, quickly grabbing onto Junior's forearms as he caught her in mid fall. As she pulled herself up, she managed to look right into Junior's eyes…in what was the sole most wonderful, life-changing accident on earth.

And for both of them, without any other-worldly aid, time froze.

She had a delicate build, the color in her cheeks and the bone structure of her face subtle. Her eyes were a drowsy grey brown, like a hazy fog of opium smoke, and set in dark eyelashes. Her hair was neat, in a flurried, nestled way, gently settled in short waves that didn't even brush her shoulders. Her clothes were old, dark, earthy colors, and her head could tickle the base of his nose if they stood close enough.

Not like he noticed any of this at first.

"Laore."

He snapped back to attention. Time had started running again, and she was staring back, unfazed and somehow resolved.

"I..sorry?" Junior asked in puzzlement.

"My…my name is Laore."

The way she said it was almost fearless, smoothing out the stutter Junior would have had. "Nergal Junior." he replied. She nodded, and turned to her photography.

"So you're a macabre fan?"

"Not necessarily," Junior admitted, "It's more of a loyalty really…I was, raised in an atmosphere close to this." Perhaps explaining his demonized, childhood where visits from Grim were ordinary and the fate of mankind faltered as often as the moon rose.

"I understand that," Laore nodded, "My parents supported Bohemian lifestyles…and macabre is a taboo art that attracts that group." A small shadow passed over her face, "This work is….not my usual fare. I had a dark period when I took them."

Junior chose to pay a little more attention to the photographs in question at that moment. The subjects were trees, some bare and clouded with naked branches, others with lighting from behind, shining like sun through the clouds, from lampposts…the orange glow and dark night setting the morbid scene. Junior looked them over…and he liked them. Morbid as they were, depressing as they were, he felt that shadow looming over him. He turned in hesitant question to Laore.

"What happened?" Laore didn't seem to be able to respond to the question at the moment. She just looked at the photographs. But after a patient moment-

"A murder," she said quietly, resigned, "A friend of mine was killed by her roommate…who suffered a mental health faulty. Knife stabs."

"Are you angry at her killer?"

"No. I saw her, and she's more of a threat to herself really. My friend just got in the way of it."

Junior had actually doubted Laore's spite for the roommate beforehand. The pictures, were not vengeful. Trees never seek vengeance for broken branches, torn leaves, or rotted bark. They continue to grow in pained silence. To express vengeance…she'd have picked a human subject.

"Yes…I can see that." Junior replied. It got her by surprise, making her turn and incline her head in curiosity and shock. "I mean…the trees show it." he pointed to one shedding tree, with a backlight striking in a painful beauty against the descending leaves, flowing out from the barely leaved branches, "Here…you see, it seemed less of a vengeful feeling. More like…shedding your tears and.." He felt he'd spoken too much and stilled. Like the spotlights on the art, the silence was mellow and hazed. Finally…

"You're right…I mean, its always painful to admit the truth…but there it is…" she stroked the photographs longingly, "You move on…and you forget."

"Not always," Junior remarked with a smile, "Coffee?"

That was the beginning of their engagement as friends, to many Styrofoam cups littering the floors of their dorm rooms, to books upon books of photography and philosophy; an unlikely yet suitable match of intellects. From Junior's plain, humble side of the dorm room, with bare necessities and intellectual pleasures, to Laore's Bohemian styled flat, crowded with the usual fare of unique, starving artists.

"I'd like to take a picture of you soon." Laore said one day, at his dorm room. Arnie was in class, a rare peace, for he never ceased to comment on Junior's relationship with Laore. "Not now though. I can't help but be discomforted by ordinary pictures. The first picture I ever took was quite beautiful. Did I tell you about that?"

She showed him a shrunken version of it, printed paper slid into her wallet. It was a sequence of teddy bears, spooning each other upright from large to small. It had been taken at an angle from the floor, and you could see the beige carpet, and the overhead lights of a window, curtains flung open. The bears leaned against a chair, beaded eyes and sewn mouths staring blank and impassive ahead.

"I was only a toddler when I did it actually. It was very peculiar from my parents point of view to see a two year old fussing over her bears so strangely. Then I just did what I saw them do when they took pictures, pushed the button, and snap! It was quite amusing."

"I was raised at home for a long time," Junior replied, "My parents used to encourage outdoor activities, but later they were very cautious about letting me around other children. It was harder for me to make friends because of…because of my condition."

Laore had not heard of such a thing. Junior's room was free of prescribed medicines and medical necessities. She knew him better to think of it being a mental issue. "I suppose you don't want to talk about it?" she guessed.

"I do…but I can't." he said, pained and simply. "You'd only run away."

"You're my friend. I wouldn't have a good reason to."

"Someone else told me they were my friends when I showed them. He was a perfect, innocent fool. People like that take easily to…freaks. But he ran away, when it was all over."

"I'm an intellectual." Laore replied persistently. It wasn't like her to push, but she had concern. Dear Laore. "I'd think carefully about your condition before deciding I don't want to be your friend."

"I…" Junior faltered. Was this alright? After so long of misunderstanding from his peers, could he trust Laore? "….Alright. But not here. Is there a forest farther away?"

They didn't find a forest, but a field from a broken down farm. The For Sale sign was posted up, but the gate was open for anyone to come in. They drove down in Junior's car. It was March, but a stubborn inch of snow and ice laid on the patchy plains, trees just beginning to bud in spite of the snow trickling off their branches. Junior walked with Laore, bundled up in a coat with trailing sleeves and scarf, until the sounds of cars passing on the country road were no longer heard. The wind blew, biting and cold. They stood apart from each other, Junior tense and apprehensive.

"Turn back," he pleaded, "Say you don't want to know anymore."

"I wouldn't have come if I didn't want to know." she said firmly, planting her feet straight into the ground. "Show me."

It came more easily than Junior expected from months of having kept it all inside. The black, slippery tentacles slid out with ease, wriggling with pleasure at the fresh air. His skin hardened and softened to the tar-like skin, His teeth grew and sharpened, his tongue warping into a hissing leech still attached to his mouth. His body grew twisted and ugly, forming like a dragon's body with a sheen of dark, murky green slick on the black skin. Eyes popped up by Junior's original ones. And with each new monstrosity, Laore's eyes widened and her knees buckled until she toppled to her knees. Junior was himself.

"You're afraid," he whispered in a voice that echoed by itself.

"Yes.." Laore's voice cracked. Terror.

"I told you." His voice ended up cracking too. He slunk back into his human form, letting the tentacles and dark skin recede with a harsh, gasping sigh. He fell to his hands and knees, spindly fingers clutching at the frigid ground with a crunch. "I wanted you to leave before I-"

There was silence, and it felt like hours. Laore, easing herself wobbly up from her crouch, walked hesitantly to Junior, bending over and putting a gentle hand to his head.

"I thought about it." she said shakily. Junior braced himself. He didn't want to lose control. The first time he ever did was to the very first human…and not even the boy's memories had been left…only his body as an empty shell for Junior to take over. The poor boy, so blunt to ugliness, had screamed and flailed and suffered. What would he do to Laore, who was so kindly and intellectual, who made time freeze the moment they met?

"I still want to be your friend."

He let out a gasp of breath, shuddering as he let Laore pull him into an embrace. He clung back to her like the ice to the trees, with thankful, gasping sobs. His hands entwined in her hair, those soft, dainty locks. He took in her scent, a pleasing mix of soap and plastic from film rolls.

And intellectual can judge a monster.

And at that moment, in their first ever embrace, from peeling back those thick layers of unease and anxiety, Junior realized something so wonderful that it bubbled up new tears of joy and made him dizzy and faint.

Love. He was in love with Laore.

That night as they went home, Laore dropped off at her flat full of sleeping artists, Junior found himself restless with this new, overwhelming feeling of love burning in his chest. He drove to the park and danced alone to a song that bubbled out of his head. How amazing. How very wonderful! How foolish he'd been in his youth, thinking Mandy, for all her troubles, woe and spite, could potentially inspire love. He kicked up snow as his shoes tapped along the dirt path lined with benches, the light twinkling merrily. He returned to his dorm, hoping his excited scribbles didn't wake up Arnie who snore and snuffled in his sleep.

_When you walk through the door,_ he sang inside his head to a clear, strumming melody, _leaves forget to fall, people forget to breathe, time is ceased_. He tapped quietly with the soft soles of his shoes, making his roommate twitch at the small sound. _No words to be said, and a magic is released. You give me power and charm and can do me no harm, the tone of the song becoming deeper, more exotic, with an almost tango-like beat, And I feel like flying into the sea._

Junior closed his eyes as he let the music pause, let the pencil on paper stop moving, and thought of Laore at that moment. Gentle. Intellect. Laore.

_Don't leave…_

He wrote that down quickly, before departing from the dorm room as quickly as he came. The energy flowed like an erupting volcano, refusing to be stilled for the comfort of Arnie's sleep. He walked out to the park, not bothering to drive, and wrote as he paced around, feet attempting to dance the tango alone…even though Junior had never danced it before. He kept writing, verses flowing out smooth as water on a brook.

_Should you go, my love  
__People would move again  
__Cars would drive, passing by  
__Maybe then  
__Time would snap us apart  
__You belong in my heart  
__Understand that I'm a desperate man  
__Cities would rise and fall  
__Men would live and die  
__But should the time pass by  
__I would rather die  
__Without you, I might as well not live at all_

Finally, exhausted emotionally and physically, he slumped into a bench, ignoring the wet snow sinking into the back of his clothes. The notebook was clenched tightly in his hands as he panted, puffs of hot breath clouding over. He looked up to the dark, clouded sky, with a happy, exhausted smile. He had never written a song before, and anything that even came close was out of duty, for the pursuit of knowledge. He never loved his hidden art so much before. He never loved so much period.

"I haven't seen you dance like that since the Valentine's Day Dance."

Junior snapped up at the familiar, dour voice. Turning to the figure standing in the middle of the park path, he saw her. Mandy.

"What are you doing here?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, "Didn't you become mayor?"

"There's new plans Nergal Junior," she stated, holding out a hand. A skull ring, with a diamond perched neatly on top, was right on her ring finger. Junior gulped. So that means….

"You're getting married?"

"To Grim."

That really made him falter. He fell back into his seat with a stutter, "Bu-but I thought he detested you!"

"It's complicated," she said vaguely. She looked beautiful to most, definitely beautiful for someone of Grim's standards, but with his mind occupied by Laore, Junior didn't think so as much as he would have, "He wanted me to ask you since Billy's still your cousin and he's coming."

"Well…" he hesitated, "I suppose so…"

"Fine. We'll RSVP." She turned away, where sure enough, a rip in space was waiting to swoop her away. "See you the sixth." She was about to climb in, but turned back in question. "What were you doing dancing and writing ditties for anyway?"

Junior looked up like the lovesick devil-puppy he was. "Love. I'd think you'd have known that from your latest conquest." Mandy scoffed.

"I have no love." she stated plainly. Well, knowing Mandy it was probably true. She stepped through the portal, and vanished into midair, leaving Junior to finally shiver in the passing cold. Or it could have been Mandy. He wasn't quite sure. He hoped it wasn't a bad omen that Mandy had succumbed to marriage the evening he tasted the first wonderful glass of love.

A week passed, and the intensity of their friendship increased. They frequented each other's rooms, poring over art and intellect. Explanations were quite long on Junior's behalf. "I was born this way," he explained as they studied the ponder of who came first, the chicken or the egg, "In an egg. I took the first human form I saw."

"And your mother? Your father?" she asked.

"My father is Nergal Senior, and he's like me. But my mother is human though. The Nergal genes just won out. He married my mother mostly out of desperation…we lived in the center of the Earth, and when it was just him it was very lonely. He ended up having her move in with him and having his baby so she wouldn't be tempted to leave. She loves him, they love each other, but we try to ignore dad's intentions." he shrugged slightly, in a way that attempted to make the clinging obviousness of his father less so, "He's only…slightly evil. But not terribly."

"My parents were the usual Bohemian types." Laore explained. "Artists rebelling against their parents, living off of soup cans and alcohol, wanting to provide art but not sell it. They raised me a little better than that though. They sold their artworks so they could buy me better food and books and toys. They were real love-birds." Junior sighed. Such opposites! If he chose to marry Laore, and she accepted, how could such opposite parents agree on each other?

"Opposites I guess…" Junior said dejectedly. Laore's eyes twinkled defiantly.

"That never made us so different."

"Ha, ha! I guess you're right!" he laughed, collecting his coffee cup off the floor. The night had sunken over the campus. It was a spring night, mildly cold, with petals from apple blossoms falling gently in the nighttime wind. "Let's go walking." Laore said suddenly, standing up, "Nights like these are always so enjoyable for me."

They walked towards the park, talking further about families. Junior had been comfortable enough to show her his true form, talking about his cousin Billy and everyone else was too easy. He revealed the bonds that Grim had with him and Mandy, about Mandy and the Valentine Dance and how he thought that had been love, how you could depend on his cousin for being friendly but never intelligent, everything.

"It's so strange when it comes to me now." he said, taking a breath from all his talking. "I've lived here with such a strange peace that the old life seems like a dream."

Laore looked at him strangely, and then stepped backwards in slight critique. Then she pulled out her camera. "I want to take that picture now." she said finally. Junior looked confused. Now? After so many weeks? What was different?

"It…the tree," she pointed. He turned to look, "No, no don't look. Just turn back and look at me. Try putting your hands in your-yes that's right. Now smile. No teeth, just, yes that's it. Stand still." She focused the lens, peering intently through her eyepiece. Junior kept his smile genuine. It wasn't hard…admiring Laore seemed as easy as natural as breathing. He waiting for the tell-tale click of the camera, and then moved forward, hovering over her shoulder. He had to hold back his surprise.

It was beautiful. Not something usual associated with calling Junior, he was mostly just handsome, but there was true beauty to it. The tree behind him was alone, with a backlight of a street lamp. The light made the tree glow ghostly white, and illuminated Junior like a full moon.

"It's luminous," he muttered in his admiration. "It's like-"

"Yes," she breathed slowly, a little surprised at her own work, "I know."

They sat like that on a bench, littered with apple blossoms, admiring the picture. Had Junior ever looked like that in his entire life? "I never really plan my pictures," Laore admitted, "Lots of photographers have people pose, they add things, they move things around. But for me, I simply go out into the world and freeze time naturally."

"Freeze time?" Junior's heart thudded. Like when they met? Did she bend time to her whim with a click of the camera?

"Yes," she nodded, "That's what gave photography such mystique and art for me. You click a button, and then end result is proof that time stopped for you. In my head, every time I'm about to take a picture, I think, 'Stop!' and then it's like an order." Laore flushed visibly. "I'm sorry. I'm putting it badly."

"You're putting it very well," Junior insisted. Then he decided that the moment was ripe to finally ask, "Would you like going to Mandy's wedding with me this Friday?" Laore's eyebrows raised. "Are we still talking about the hell-raiser from your childhood?" she asked cautiously.

"Yes," he admitted, turning red, "She's marrying Grim…and invited me…and we're allowed to bring guests…" he mumbled sheepishly. He'd never really been experienced with girls…at Endsville he was considered too creepy by most of the girls.

"Okay," she agreed, her surprise wearing off, "It should be interesting to meet the infamous Mandy and Grim I suppose," she chuckled. Junior could have done back-flips with excitement. It wasn't necessarily a date…but he'd done it!

"My cousin Billy should be there too," Junior said a little giddily, "And my parents. Although Grim and my dad get along terribly, he tolerates me and we Nergals are a part of Billy's family. Some old friends and family members should be coming too, it'll be interesting."

Interesting, was quite the word for it. Billy and Mandy's parents were present, as well as Grim's family, and many old faces Junior had seen and heard in passing. Nearly all of the old schoolmates were mercifully absent, even what should have been a broken-hearted Irwin, but somehow Sperg and Mindy had sneaked in, both of them looking terrified and awkward between Lord Pain and Hoss Delgado. Eris, the gap in her teeth seeming wider than ever, was looking fairly drab now, white toga ripped and her make-up looking messy. Billy, in with his usual foolish grin, stood by Grim at the altar as the best man. Grim hadn't changed at all, still wearing his dark cloak. A rotted looking priest prepared to perform the rites ready to cut the bonds of mortality once and for all.

Junior was radiant and proud of his date, although he only dared to think it, rather than to say it out loud. Laore looked fresh as a flower bouquet, with an ivy green dress lined with stiffer ruffles around the edge and a unique headpiece of white silk roses with curly leaves sprawling back on the top of her head. She smiled at Junior, looking fairly dashing in his tuxedo of green and black, taking an offered arm and sitting with him by his parents. Nergal Senior was unaffected by age, although his mother showed signs of age through slightly grayed hair and the beginning signs of wrinkles. Nergal looked slightly suspicious at Junior's date, but a pointed stare from Junior promised a later explanation.

Junior knew Mandy well enough to know she'd never wear white, not with a soul blacker and tougher than burned iron. She wore a black gown, lined with crow feathers, radiating only her wicked, dark aura that had driven Grim to propose. She didn't smile, and Junior personally prayed that the day she did smile be kept away for all eternity, she didn't show concern or excitement. She walked up, and let the wedding proceed.

They drank their martial wine. And with a chaste, but powerful kiss between the couple, they were declared skeleton, and wife.

The party afterwards was held at Dracula's castle, which was offered by the said vampire since he spent so much time at the senior center anyway. It was dark, it was morbid, but with Junior and Laore, it could have been the very bowels of Hell and not mattered. Junior floated, his arm still linked with Laore's as he excited pointed out characters among the wedding and told stories. They drank champagne lightly, and Junior was flying on waves of emotional ecstasy, until his parents came.

"Son," drawled his father good-naturedly, "It's been forever my boy! How's college?"

"Fine dad," Junior reluctantly let go of Laore's arm to give his father a manly hug, and to peck at his mother's cheek. "I want you to meet someone." This was a slight lie. Junior was nervous of his father…he'd received bad advice from him before and feared his judgment on Laore. Laore shook hands delicately with his parents.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," Laore said kindly. Junior felt tense and anxious as Nergal gripped Laore's small delicate hands. He did love his dad, for all his faults, but he did make him so terribly nervous!

"Do you mind if I steal her away for a short chat my boy?" Nergal asked with his lilting voice, coming off casual and easy. His snake charmer's voice. Junior could hardly protest, and walked off, now carrying the arm of his mother, attempting to distract himself with conversation and questions to his mother.

"I do hope my Junior's behaved himself," Nergal commented as he walked arm and arm with Laore. Laore giggled lightly, brushing off Nergal's suspicion. "Oh of course! He's really quite the gentleman Mr. Nergal."

"Mmm, right, right of course," Nergal looked away offhandedly, "A father does worry, and Junior had his share of snits as a youngster."

"I know," Laore replied simply, to Nergal's great surprise, "He's also a very trustworthy friend as well you know Mr. Nergal. We trust each other."

Nergal's gaze was sharp, questioning, demanding. Laore returned it with a cooler gaze. Simply put, he was asking, _Did he show you?_

"How much?" he drawled dangerously.

_Yes. _"Enough," Laore replied in a firm, unmovable voice.

They stopped walking. They were already farther away from the crowd. Breaking the link around Laore's arm, Nergal stood challengingly at Laore.

"So you've seen-"

"Yes. I know the real Junior, inside and out." she stated, holding her ground. Nergal scoffed, gesturing towards the party.

"But you don't really understand do you? His own cousin-"

"I am not a fool Mr. Nergal." Laore cut in, "I am an intellectual who thinks clearly and thoroughly before making judgment. And compared to the dolt drinking punch through his nose over there, a person like me is a person worth giving a real evaluation. We're friends, and I don't plan on changing that."

Nergal's eyes narrowed in a cold glare. His teeth, sharp, weasel-like teeth, were slightly bared as they faced off. "Then I suppose you don't reject his intentions?"

Laore flinched. "Intentions?" she questioned, "I don't understand."

"Oh but I think you do," Nergal smirked, having found her weak spot, "He brought you here, a lovely young lady, to a wedding no less. Was he hoping you'd catch the bouquet?"

"It's not like that," she snapped, rustled, "He has not approached me on any premises of even a date, much less marriage."

"You're hardly a worthy match as it is," Nergal scoffed, "He deserves someone of his own kind. He should have been up there with Mandy this evening, rather than mooning over a mortal-"

"Mr. Nergal!" Laore's voice raised in warning, "As your son has not acted upon these feelings you claim he has, we are friends. And because we are friends, neither of us have ideas of marriage." She turned on her heel, walking back to the wedding, "Have a nice evening Mr. Nergal."

Junior was panicky as Laore walked over, a frown evident on her face, looking slightly harassed. "Are you alright?" he flustered over her, "Did he say something?"

"Later…please?" she asked with a wince. It was too much to think about now. "I think I'd like to start heading back, I need to finish up my portfolio by next week."

They were preparing to leave, when Grim and Mandy surprisingly pulled Junior over. "It'll only be a moment," he called to Laore, who was pulling on her coat. Once the three of them were alone in an unused hall, he muttered in vexation, "I really, really hope its only a moment."

"Thanks for coming Junior," Mandy said placidly, "But we invited you to offer a job position."

"A job?" Junior raised his eyebrow in suspicion. Knowing Grim and Mandy, it couldn't be pleasant.

"Yes," Grim continued in his deep Jamaican accent, "Simply put, we want you as general for the Underworld Army," Junior was surprised. Him?

"What for?" he shrugged, "I haven't been in a battle in forever and I may not be up-"

"Don't piss around Junior," snapped Mandy, "You haven't lost your touch to inspire fear and terror, and you most certainly haven't lost your ability to fight like a pro. You're joining as a general, and that's that."

"Or what?" he dared, bristling angrily. Let them try. They thought they could wrench him away from his happy life, his normal life, a life that didn't consist of him ripping off heads everywhere he went-

"Or," Grim said, more dangerously than Junior could remember him being, "De time for dat young lady for you out dere could come extra early."

Junior's instincts took over. Anger, wild as a hurricane, hot as molten magma, powerful as the very universe, took over. He didn't hesitate to shift back into his true form, more horrible than when he'd shown it to Laore. He hissed in their faces. They remained calm and cool. Junior never remembered being so angry before!

"If you dare to touch one hair," he hissed venomously, "I'll-"

"Do what?" said Mandy in that cold voice that commanded thousands during her time as mayor, "Transform into your nasty old self and rip us to pieces? You being as you are now is a sign that you're already weaker." Junior flinched, wanting to break every bone in Mandy's body…but he found himself unable to even breathe. "You've let a dainty little Bohemian take over your life."

"Tain't so bad," Grim interceded, "You'll have a great amount of control over de armies, and time off." he wielded his scythe threateningly, "It's better for all of us really. So make your choice. Work for us," he pointed the scythe to the door, "Or I can just make ya Laore a miserable wanderin' spirit. And I warn ya Junior," He loomed with something grave and terrifying, "I ain't the pansy Mandy used ta keep."

It was too much for Junior. He shrunk away to his human form, gasping for breath and shivering from the blast of cold he'd felt from the evil, combined aura of the deadly couple. His defeat, shaking at the feet of the newlyweds, was an answer enough. They walked away, arm in arm, leaving Junior alone. "We'll be sending you regular assignments. It'd be best if you left that college as well." Mandy said in a final sort of voice that sounded like the slamming of a jail cell to Junior.

Laore found him ten minutes later, wild with worry, as Junior was icy cold at the horrible fate he'd just gotten assigned to.

"I'm sorry if I worried you." he muttered miserably at Laore as they walked home. Laore shook her head. "Don't be. I couldn't help but have my own suspicions about those two talking to you alone."

"Speaking of which," Junior remembered, "What did my father say to you?" Laore stiffened, looking away.

"You're miserable enough as it is," she tried to excuse herself, "We should talk another time when you're less-"

"Please Laore?" he asked with a slight plea. "I know my father well, but I want to know if he's being mean to my best friends. Please tell me?"

Laore couldn't say no to Junior, who, despite his own problems, needed the truth more than ever. She gave in. "He thought you had…more serious intentions about me. He doesn't think we're a very suitable match."

Junior sighed, stopping to lean against a bench. They were taking their usual park route, and the trees were already heavy with green leaves and buds. Laore sat by him tentatively. "You mean he doesn't approve of you." Junior confirmed. Laore was trying to soften the meaning, but he knew it well enough.

"Yes." she admitted in some embarrassment, "He thought you had plans to marry me."

Junior felt his face get warm. Well that was certainly true. But he looked at Laore, so homely and lovely, and couldn't help but agree with his father…on a different level.

"He also thought that you should have married Mandy."

Junior actually fell over with shock. The subject of Mandy, yet again, had managed to knock him over like a ton of bricks. "Mandy?" Junior said incredulously, "Is he out of his mind?" Laore flustered, turning pink.

"We-well you two did know each other for a long time.." she mumbled, choosing to twist at her dress, something Junior knew she did when she got nervous. He would have found it charming if he was so outraged.

"She's a hellion! Even Grim as he is now is going to have a tough time! Plus she's a sadist and totally heartless!" Laore laughed. She couldn't help it…Junior looked so strange in his rant, seeing a grown man like him rant on like a crazy guy was too funny. Junior flushed beet red and took a seat grumbling.

"I love the man, but my dad has too extreme ways of wanting to take care of me."

"It's natural." Laore insisted, "I think we can both agree that we're not finding him totally lovable now," Junior nodded in agreement, "But I can tell he's concerned."

"I…I guess it's because of his track record," Junior sighed in defeat. Okay so his dad had good sides, "For the longest time he was very lonely, who wouldn't be if they lived in the center of the Earth? And when he married my mom and had me, he found love and acceptance…even if the woman who chose him had been desperate for affection at the time." Junior smiled in spite of himself. "I guess that experience you had with him could have ended worse. He could have brought out his shock tentacles."

Laore paled slightly. "Not that tentacles aren't interesting," she said, a little queasy, "But he's old. And not so terribly attractive. Come to think of it.." she took a second look at Junior, "You don't look terribly like your parents, save for your dad's eyes, teeth and nails."

"It was the first form I took over," Junior said, a little hesitant, "I was newly hatched, and I didn't know the ways of the human world. I approached a kid at the camp my parents sent me to and asked to be his friend, but he completely rejected me." He bit his lip, looking critically at his hands, "I was so heart-broken and angry that I…I stole his form" He fought past the urge to vomit. "There's nothing left of him anymore. His soul, mind and heart have passed on…leaving a shell for me." Junior was surprised at the gentle touch on his back. Laore looked at him pityingly.

"Children never know how cruel they are when they do these things," she soothed him, "And they're never likely to admit they did anything wrong. It's always easier to admit being right."

The touch on his back, although so very simple, seemed more intimate a touch than holding hands or hugging. The smooth, cool palms could be felt, even through his suit jacket. He couldn't help but stare at Laore in awe. Sweet Laore. She always had the right things to say.

He shifted slightly towards her, not breaking eye contact. Laore seemed surprised at his admiring gaze. Looking at Laore's soft eyes, Junior was given a reminder of their difference. His eyes were that poisonous, unearthly shade of green, that not even glasses could hide. Hers were human. Perfect and human.

"Laore.." he whispered, husky and light. "I'm…" He couldn't say another word. He was kissing Laore.

A intellectual can judge a monster.

Junior felt that song come back in aces, thrumming so deep and firmly in his mind that his heartstrings seemed to be plucked as one would a harp. He felt his cheeks warm…she was closer and, in a sense, more real than she'd ever been. He pressed very cautiously against her small mouth, should she decide to yank away. She wouldn't be angry.

And as the thin lips gently pushed back, he was sure she wasn't angry.

There was something productive about kissing Laore on the eve of Mandy's wedding. Even as Junior begrudgingly withdrew from school to serve as the Underworld's general, he now felt he truly had something to come back to. He began living with Laore, and despite the number of roomies she'd acquired, there was a good deal of privacy as he crept into bed late at night to curl up by her side, or to pick her up in between classes for meals. There was an awkwardness at first, a wrinkle in their blossoming relationship. But with each passing night, they eventually smoothed it out into a rhythm that suited both of them. He never did get a chance to tell her about his new job title, but he suspected that she had a fair guess. She was an intellectual after all.

The down-side that came into play after they began properly dating and living together, was Nergal Senior. Nergal was a good man, Junior didn't doubt that. But he had annoying habits that often came to prod the two even more annoyingly so in the back. Including his gloat over his confrontation with Laore. Junior, wanting to get Laore to understand his family better, thought it wise to have a dinner out, just the four of them.

Thank goodness his mother was blissfully unaware of anything.

Nergal had a superior air, while Laore remained rigid, indifferent, and neutral on the subject. Junior felt embarrassed as Nergal kept swinging on back to the wedding, and Junior had to kick him warningly under the table several times. Fortunately, Sis was happy to talk of different things, gossip, news, and the like. Laore was, thankfully, more than happy to engage her on these topics…which usually made Junior's father sulk at being ignored. When Junior met Laore's parents for dinner, he found it much more to his liking. They were simple folk, and not anything like Nergal. He prayed that someday maybe…he and Laore could be like that too. There was nothing so satisfactory as the simplicity of everyday love.

They did little things for each other. Junior usually brought home something sweet for dessert after dinner when the time came for Laore to cook up something simple and filling, and Laore kept her space at the flat neat and tidy, keeping Junior's possessions clean and well sorted. More than anything though, Junior just liked to curl up next to Laore as she slept, not quite touching, but being close enough to feel the ghost of her body and the scent of her hair as she slept on. But they were shy lovers, they wouldn't be comfortable with cuddling for a while. However, as Junior completed deadly missions, ordered about the fiercest of beasts, and showed his own terrifying power to the underworld, he found a warm, welcome reprieve in this pure, virginal love.

But Junior remembers how life decided to end it all for him.

It had begun three years after. They were still going strong, now closer than ever, unashamed to touches and cradling at night. Nothing sexual, but something with an air of sensuality came along, making Junior's hands move on their own, squeezing Laore's thighs more tenderly as they slept at night. Laore felt her own impatience, and took to nipping lightly on Junior's lip whenever they kissed.

They were waiting on the other to start the spark, but neither was ready to do it.

Junior blamed himself. He was always socially awkward, and even with the girl he loved best, he felt like he'd fumble and miss if he tried to initiate sexual contact. What was worse was that it didn't fade, rather it stockpiled and burned like fire constantly. His job took a sadistic turn, as he took out his frustration on his enemies and minions. It wasn't a side he'd ever showed to Laore. In the underworld, he was meant to terrify, to maim and kill and lead others following his example. Laore was an artist, and intellectual, and a pacifist. It wouldn't lead to good tidings if she'd seen what he'd done.

The frustration built up between the two. Their anger showed discreetly, as was their nature. They made messy mistakes at home, worsening as they gained a new and separate apartment, and showed signs of neediness. Once or twice one snapped at the other, the said other biting the inside of their cheeks for a sharp rebuttal. Junior brought home fruitcake and raisin bread rather than more appetizing sweets for desserts. Laore let many of Junior's books fall prey to dust. Then finally, an argument.

They had only had three before, each ending in fervent apologies. None would ever have such dire consequences.

It started with a bottle of brandy. It was a simple drink, nothing terribly harmful, but Laore, for all her sweetness, could not hold the sting in her words as she saw Junior walk in with it jumbled with groceries.

"Brandy?" she said, a little icy, "What's the occasion?"

"No occasion," he shrugged, setting by a glass cup, "Simply was in the mood for something to drink is all."

"No occasion," she echoed with a edge to her voice, "I see."

"Listen I'm not going to make you drink it alright?" he snapped, "I just need a change of pace."

"From what?" she snapped back. She wasn't so pretty when she was angry, sharp lines creased and twisted her face and made her looking slightly menacing, like a predator. It gave her the aura of Mandy, someone he would never want to be caught arguing with, "If you've got a problem you should tell me."

"I don't need to tell you everything," he said with ice lacing his words. He shouldn't get angry, but sexual frustration and his inability to cope with it bubbled up like hot water, "I never ask you for all your secrets Laore."

"I don't have any secrets to hide from you!" she said harshly, "You're the one too chicken to even tell me your job-"

"You already know don't you? You're supposed to be clever!"

But Laore had heard far too much. With a single fluid motion, she raised a hand and swept across the room. In an attempt to slap him, Junior reacted the only way he knew…and attacked.

Laore's humanity slowed her down, and a green hand clawed her shoulder. Blood stained Junior's hands and Laore fell roughly to the ground. In many aspects she'd been lucky that he only grazed her shoulder…only the wound was deep and staining her work shirt a bright red. She cried out with a sound that held back months of stress and frustration…making Junior flinch.

And for a while there were no sounds at all. Laore's face was frozen in a state of shock; more out of what she'd tried to do than from the blood flowing from her arm. Junior felt the sudden urge to tear off his own arm as it burned with a sense of filth, the blood slick and hot against his fingers. Without a second word from either of them, Junior turned and fled out the door. Laore didn't rise from the ground, still frozen in her shock.

Junior lost all sense of time and reason. He suddenly found himself surrounded in a sea of bitter alcohol, somewhere in a dark room without any knowledge of where he'd gone, and how bottles upon bottles of liquor seemed to materialize in his hands. Other hands, none of his own as these were both mottled and rotted, pressed wine, brandy, vodka, and beer to be listlessly gulped down in eagerness. He thought back for a moment on philosophy…only to be lost as he fell back into a sea of clinking bottles, the putrid scent of alcohol clinging to the air, and the burning feeling of Laore's blood curdling underneath his nails…

Something in him longed to curl her flesh against his in an embrace…and miraculously something did. On waves of intoxication and his dazed mind he couldn't see but her curled that invisible form tighter and tighter until he felt himself explode and fall apart.

Only then…did he fall into a mindless sleep.

Something reeked when he awoke. He felt horribly reminded of his original form somehow, how Laore gazed upon him in that deciding, contemplating terror. With a groan, he shifted from his laying position. Only then did he realize just how many things were wrong in his predicament.

He was first off…naked. Even in his human form, Junior was terribly horrified of even being caught like that. To expose himself was like revealing his true form; dangerous and mostly disappointing. Then he saw he was no longer in human world. Something about the grotesque décor, the smell of sulfur and rotting flesh made him realize he was in the Underworld.

And then of course, there was Mandy.

In a way that was both alluring and repulsive, she sat wrapped in a sheet, smoking a cigarette as she looked over her kingdom. She looked at Junior in slight curiosity, mingled with irritation. "You were loud."

He was falling apart, shattering into a million pieces. He didn't want to hear what Mandy was saying in such an unabashed tone…he wanted to be back home again, clasping his dear Laore and begging for her forgiveness. Oh god…how could he have laid hands on her like that?

"You come off as such a gentleman," she sighed, letting out a fresh stream of smoke, "You'd think you'd say my name once in a while."

She stood up, letting the sheet drop as she began pulling on her clothes. To Junior's great horror, her body was lined with gripping bruises, her thighs slick and stained.

"You'll be here a while," she sneered, "And Grim will be displeased."

Grim was a lot more than displeased, as Mandy put so lightly. While angry that his wife, for all her power and rage, had let Junior do such a thing to her, it was Junior he punished. He was locked up, thrown to the mercy of the torture chambers, and suffered Grim's low, enraged bellow for hours and hours.

But for his own small protection, he relied on Laore. Not of his crime, which plagued him more painfully than hot irons and hissing venom. But of their simple beginnings…attending college together, those forgotten and yet essential cups of coffee, her very first picture of him…

With a small moan, he realized. He never bothered with gaining a picture of her. And Grim was sure to chain him to the Underworld forever…how oh how could he go on without seeing her in that one frozen bit of paper…at least?

The torture finally stopped, but Junior's punishment didn't. With heavy, mindless days working for their army, and then returning to occasionally play with Grim Jr., their own son, he felt the longing and worry weigh heavier. Laore…was often too smart. She'd realize where he was, realize his job, and come to see him. Even as the skeleton child in his arms looked confused at the longing on his new godfather's face, he stared in terror out the window that he would see her petite frame in this realm of demons. He never, ever wanted to see that…for whatever reason.

But soon things got worse. Despite Mandy's dismissals and assurances, she became heavy with child once more, and the tortures started afresh. While Junior's worries and weights had settled down, the simmer did not help as he felt the brunt of Grim's rage once again. Until the tiny alien was out of Mandy's body, he sat in that prison, silent and remorseful.

But the baby, named MiniMandy for her amazing resemblance to her mother, seemed to change things. Her humanity, it seemed, pleased her father greatly. In complete opposite of Mandy, she was delicate and gentle, cooing to be picked up and cuddled. But with two Juniors in the house, they took to calling him Nergal, and now the only Junior in the house was Grim's son. And while Junior…now Nergal, watched his godson frown over the great deal of attention they paid his sister, Nergal only had one small request to ask of Grim.

"A picture?" he frowned.

"Just one…of Laore." he said, barely beginning to plead. "It's been months-"

"No," Grim said sharply, cutting off his air as well as his sentence, "I tink dis be a most proper punishment. You touch my wife, you never see yours again."

And that sunk Junior into an even deeper fit of despair. Laore's lack of presence was more than enough punishment…of course, one could always depend on Grim for his ways in the art of torture. Even the presence of Minnie, who often tugged at his leg in dismay at her uncle's down-trodden self, was of no help. He succumbed to his sorrow, letting it harden over him like cooling lava as he closed off the human world the best he could.

He was doomed…finished.

* * *

Author's Note: This isn't the end! This will be in three parts, with the investigation of finding Laore, Jr. and Minnie helping out their uncle, and this is only the first! But I don't want to continue if no one really likes it so please review!


	2. Truths

Chapter Two: Truth

Author's Note: A big big thank you for all your comments! This is a bit shorter than the last but the plot will thicken quickly! I've decided to add on very special plot elements in the next chapter. Cookies for whoever guesses the media source for them right!

* * *

"Uncle, whom pray tell is this?"

It began innocently enough. Mindless years of work, and Junior hadn't changed. Rather he refused to change…as he clung on to the hope that he might find Laore again. If he changed, he'd become an unrecognizable lump of a person, too twisted and warped for anyone like Laore to understand, much less recognize.

But then Minnie brought forth something from the dust sprinkled past that made him shiver and shake before falling to pieces before his little girl's very eyes. They had been going through and reorganizing the photo albums, Junior having wandered off to investigate the albums in his father's room, whilst Nergal and Minnie sifted through the dusty tomes in the attic.

This tome, was from Grim's wedding.

It was completely full, enough events and people crammed into the leather bound book. Billy practically smeared the book with his image, a wild frenzy of orange hair and punch splattered on the camera. Nergal's own image showed up in the backgrounds, a mere glint or flash of his figure before moving onto the other guests.

But in her hands, Minnie held a photo featuring Mandy and Grim posing in neutral dissention with Billy, each yanking him up as he giggled silently for the photo. But it was in the back that Nergal found something he had sought for a long, long time. His face was more visible, blurred only by the slight distance from the camera. And on his arm…the smile a mere shadow as hair fell from her floral headpiece to cover her eyes…was Laore.

Dear, dear, sweet Laore.

The good memories, the arguments and apologetic touches that followed, hours with coffee and talk, the softness of Laore's lips when he first kissed her the eve of the wedding, the wafting smell of plastic and the clean scent of soap that coupled her form…it came back like a barrage of bullets; striking Nergal to his knees in a blissful, painful onslaught. His hand burned like fire from where he'd struck Laore, and her face, as shocked and white as a statue, on her knees on the floor of their home made him howl. Minnie was taken quite aback, putting her arms around her frantic, wailing uncle as she tried to shake him back to his senses.

"Uncle! Uncle! I beseech you….please, please tell me what plagues thou?" she begged, her poetic voice stricken with worry. Nergal could only gasp, his entire body convulsing as tentacles slipped out, lashing about dangerously. The photo was held an eerily gentle fashion, his hands trembling as if trying to hold onto a fluttering butterfly.

After a hour of ceaseless trembling, he calmed. Minnie had brought up a cup of tea to soothe his nerves, but nothing could really hold back the violent thudding of his heart, which throbbed incessantly to be nearer to Laore. "Uncle…perhaps thou must go and rest…" Minnie said hesitantly. Nergal shook his head. "No…no I'm fine. I've…merely been looking for something like this for a long time. Just a hint…" No longer was he as tearful, but it was next to impossible to tear his eyes away from the background blur. Minnie however was unshakeable in her attempt to see the truth.

"Uncle, I must beg that you explain thine peril and grief. Surely the anonymous maiden is worth mentioning? Just in secrecy?"

"It would be very dangerous for us both Minnie,"

But she pressed on even more gently, and Nergal saw a familiar flicker of stubbornness that he had seen before….the night Laore saw his true form and the night love encased his heart like ivy. He caved in, and as his tea sat forgotten and chilled in his palm, he told her The Story.

It was hard to explain the beginnings, for it seemed so awkward and irrelevant in the way it started. But it smoothed out its edges and sides, and Nergal remembered when he was still just Junior, just another student, just another man. An unfamiliar tighteness had quietly throttled his heart, but as he spoke and remembered it began to loosen and fall away. It felt good to let it out. If Minnie had not pried as she did, Nergal was sure that at some point he might have ended up screaming it. At the same time it was frightening; he was baring his soul to a child…and children had been guilty of unchecked cruelty before.

He finished, and collapsed onto the dusty floor, sending his tea spilling into a dark stain as Minnie cried out in shock. As she heaved her uncle up, he was surprised to see the tears on her face.

There was nothing further to say, nothing else to do, but to sit in the decaying presence of the many books. Minnie dared to glance at Laore's faint presence in the picture. Grim must have taken special care to extract her presence from ever corner of the house-but the photographer had bested him with her faint ghost in the one picture not worth mentioning.

Mandy sensed the secrecy between her daughter and Nergal. It was obvious by the conspiratal glances they threw one another, and the increased closeness. Junior also saw the almost visible growth in their relationship, if only from the amount of time Nergal preferred to spend with his niece. However, Mandy let it slide and did not send Nergal to the torture chambers to see if he had indeed spilled his darkest secret. Nergal could only guess, but perhaps she was giving him a small reward for his dutiful work as a godfather. His regular visits were anticipated by the children and tolerated by Grim.

Only Junior acted, but only in small, petty, jealousy; he often liked to tug Nergal away to play sword-fight knowing that Nergal had the power to chop up every tiny bone into micro-dust. Nergal went along with it, but when the play was over it would be Minnie would request a teacher…not a playmate.

* * *

"Brother? This path shall surely tread upon calamity, will it not?"

"You wanted to see the Human World too right?"

It was sometime later in the giant castle on Deathridge, that Minnie and Junior decided it was high-time for another sneak-in to their father's collection room. It was a dark and dreary place, piled high with books on necromancy, dark arts, and other such dangerous works. It was maze-like, and every so often the place was dotted with valuable and dangerous treasures. Once in a while, to cure the spells of boredom left during their small vacations from Helga the tutor, they snuck it to look for something to pass the time with.

Junior heard of their next sought after item from behind the curtain when their parents spoke alone in their sitting room. It was a crystal ball, once in possession of the Greek goddess Eris, and was capable of peering from one realm to another. Wild with curiosity on the Human Realm, he quickly hurried to Minnie. As begrudgingly as he did so, he knew it would be too hard to navigate the labyrinth of collections by himself. Minnie was quick to agree. There was something else in the Human Realm she wanted to see.

"Let us turneth upon the first sign of shimmering glass my brother," Minnie directed, "Forsooth, we shall find our crystal ball among them."

Junior opened his skeletal jaw to contest this, but he quickly shut it as he spotted the prize along a row of glassy objects. The crystal ball was a smooth emerald green, held up by a silver claw, and there was a faint sound of whispering surrounding it. Not waiting any more for something to delay their curiosity, Minnie scooped it up, tucking it into the folds of her cape as they hurried back out of the collection room.

Junior had the first possession of it, and Minnie found it difficult to coax it from him. He mimicked tons of things from the Human Relam, including sports which he found unbelievably delightful. It was several weeks, until Minnie managed to slip it from his room as he kept himself preoccupied with trying out one of the sports with some of the staff demons in the wide back yard.

Minnie was anxious, but careful. If Nergal had been right about the enormous importance of secrecy concerning his lost love, Minnie had to be wary of the ears in the wall. So she quietly stole her way to the attic again, hiding behind several large trunks before she whispered to the crystal ball. "Showeth me Laore."

The green crystal shimmered and cleared out, showing a clear pool of a vision. It showed the vast green expanse of a lawn with handsome hedges and a garden lush with life. Women in white nurse uniforms aided various people carted in wheelchairs while some remained alone on the grass. The crystal zoomed in on one woman, sitting in between the hedges. Minnie bit her lip and tried not to gasp. There was no mistaking that visible fluff of dark hair and delicate limbs, that once where bedecked in ivy green and white roses. Nergal's love seemed so close that Minnie touched the cool edge of the glass in a faint attempt to touch the foreigner. It was important not to judge a person by their appearance, but Minnie would not be surprised if Nergal had liked that about Laore too.

But Laore was different…very different.

She was wearing a faded yellow sundress that was too short, and she kept yanking it down to hide the smooth white thighs that were marked with grass stains. It must have fit someone of a far shorter stature, it was beyond Minnie why Laore chose to keep wearing it. Laore's eyes carried the shadow of sparkling interest and swift intelligence, now looking greyer and sleepier with a cloud of foreboding defeat. She was slumped and exhausted, her breaths coming up in stuttering yawns and her eyes trembling with the effort to stay awake. But what pained Minnie to see were the deep red marks in her left arm-the cursed scars left behind in her uncle's blind moment of rage. It was a literally impure wound, and while it was scabbed over in a faint attempt to heal, Laore kept pecking and peeling it away to bleed afresh, pinching the flesh to let it bleed.

It was all done in front of a strange man, and a familiar man.

Minnie had never seen him before, but he had a resemblance of Nergal. But he was darker and slimmer, and with inky black skin and a look twisted by cunning. Minnie could not hear what he was saying, for the crystal only provided images, but she could see his expression furrow and sneer in dangerous apprehension as he spoke to Laore, who would not even reply. He looked fervent and annoyed, even coming to snatch at the hand picking at the claw marks on her arm. Laore could only look mournfully back, and feebly pushed him off. He narrowed his eyes, flung down her wrists, and trudged off looking murderous. Minnie felt her tears renew at her eyes as she saw Laore collapse onto the grass, biting her lips hard enough to bleed as she too wept in silence, the two of them sharing grief miles apart. Orderlies spotted Laore's distress and came hurrying over, picking her up gently as they carried her back inside. Minnie watched them…and on top of the door she spotted the words; **St. Martha's Sanatorium for the Disabled** imprinted atop.

It was such a beautiful place, and Laore was such a beautiful woman. But like slivers of broken glass, she was broken and pained. Minnie couldn't imagine what could have happened to land her in there. She could, and would, find out. Minnie already knew where Laore was. It was merely a matter of getting there.

"Minnie?"

There was a knock on her door with the sound of rattling bones. She hurriedly stuffed the crystal into one of her pillows, burying it under the bed. "Yes?" she said, trying not to sound too alarmed.

"Mandy and I have a surprise for you," he spoke in his heavy accent. "You 'n Junior best be gettin' ready now."

"Yes Father."

She pulled on her light cloak, but as she laid a hand on the door she looked uneasily at where the crystal ball was hidden. A faint glow emitted from the space under her bed, and she felt a slight sense of disturbance. But she shook it off, and headed downstairs. There wasn't time to contemplate it now. She use the time off to think of a plan first.

* * *

The door slipped shut, and a whispery sound came fluttering through the curtains of Minnie's window. The room was empty, dried flowers crisp and quiet in a lovely vase as other girlish items and trinkets were tidy and well kept. His granddaughter was a girl worth seeing, even if it was a one-sided sight.

The dark figure looked around for the crystal ball, opening drawers and the closet, only to wince at the hissing and irritated snarls from the creatures that liked to lurk in the dark. Then, the green glow caught on the silver fastenings on his shoes and he looked down. He pulled out the pillow, and was pleased to see the crystal ball glowing inside.

But he immediately froze at the sight. For Minnie had forgotten to clean the image from the crystal and he could see Laore clearly now, sitting quiet and mournful by the window of her room as she looked for something beyond his sight. His grip tightened and slackened on the ball as he seethed quietly.

Laore had rejected every other option. And Minnie was closing in. There was only one choice left to make…for his son's sake.

He wiped an inky black hand over the surface of the ball and the image faded into the emerald crystal. He put it back where Minnie would find it again. But when she did…she would no longer need it.

* * *

Nergal was at home, although it seemed a mockery to call it now. He wasn't home, he'd never be home, and the hellish pit of the Underworld was no place to consider home. But he was in a place where he had solitude. No soldiers, no enemies, not even godchildren to distract him. Mandy must have disliked for him to be alone with his thoughts; they could more than easily become distractions for his work and Mandy would not tolerate a less than perfect general out of Nergal.

But he could only think of the same things now. Minnie had unknowingly ruptured the calm control he had over his memories and they kept coming back in heart-aching bursts. Now it seemed nearly impossible to not think about Laore. He couldn't say he wished they'd never met…he'd only be left as a merciless and heartless husk of himself, and would fill his empty spaces with bloodlust and wickedness. He didn't want to degrade himself to the child he'd been before. But it stung him strongly to remind himself that those times with Laore were long gone. He couldn't even remember her scent now-

Wait…what?

He was so shocked that he stood upright. Something…was wrong. He racked his brains and breathed deeply, as if the still air of the Underworld might present some small hint of Laore's intoxicating scent, but nothing came. He trembled and clasped a hand over his mouth. Suddenly the dead airs of Hell made him feel sick, physically and emotionally. How…how could he forget?

He stuck his head out the window. He usually chose not to do so, keeping the windows tightly bolted to keep out the sounds, sights, and smells of the Underworld. But he wrenched open the window, the wood and bolts snapping and splintering under his strength. He was hit in the face with thick sulfur and the sounds of howls and screams. He let them overwhelm his senses, and his urge to vomit faded.

But like scars and bruises, the ache and horror lingered. Laore had vanished as sure as the wind, and she was taking his memories of her with him.


	3. Oubliette

Chapter Three: Oubliette

Minnie struggled to see correctly through her only eye. Something was…off.

Nothing in the room had changed since Halloween, but Minnie had. Her hair, once prim and smooth, curled up the sides of her head like horns. Her skin was patchy with edges of roughly sewn skin, and one of her eyes was missing, leaving a gaping socket. And inside she'd changed. Despite the horrors and pain she'd gone through, it had all been worth it to see Junior look at her with a brightened smile and attitude now. In a way, it was like looking upon herself, her dreams, as he looked back with her other eye. She was so much happier now.

But something was off. Missing.

The only thing she remembered about the room the last she was in it was an investigation of some kind. She was looking for something. But like a hard to find word, it was on the tip of her tongue. She couldn't remember, which made her tremble because what she did recall was that it was very important. Minnie could only look around for a clue.

Finally, after much rummaging around, she found something. It was a smooth crystal ball of green emerald. She remembered putting it there after looking for…something. But its image was clear. Nothing.

She tucked it back under. What, oh what in all of Hell was going on?

But as she pulled back from the hiding place, she noticed something that should not have been there. A footprint. Uneasy, Minnie compared it with her own. It was nothing like her dainty little feet, being much longer and slimmer with a pointed toe. Judging by the smooth indent the mark had on the dusty floor, it was by someone with a love for good shoes.

And something wriggled in the back of her mind. Pictures.

She immediately returned to her sleuthing, going through every picture she kept. There were many beings with small feet, a dozen feet, or no feet at all, but none with good shoes. She sat down in frustration. "For sooth," she mumbled, "This be most vexing." Minnie had to take deep breaths. Then she made a realization. Who did you turn to when in a fix? Granny Grim!

"Awright child. Lessee what we ken do."

Minnie sat patiently in a chair at Granny Grim's little den, the entire room full of hanging spices, limbs, feathers, and other things. The skeletal woman was fussing about a giant cooking pot, throwing in ingredients to make it hiss and bubble while mumbling in her Jamaican accent.

"Kids deese days. Dey don't feed ya de right ingredients cher!" she declared, "Up and out witcha mind one o'deese days what withcha in sucha fix!"

"Indubitably Granny." Minnie replied.

"Aha! Now ain't dat a pretty work cher?"

Minnie got up and hurried to the pot which was now fizzling and sparking in excitement. Granny Grim took a big iron ladle and scooped some out, sticking it towards Minnie. "Dere ya are cher," she said confidently, "One dose an' a right proper nap'll getcha mind back ta workin'."

"I thank thee verily Granny." Minnie replied in excitement, sipping down the concoction quickly. She resisted the urge to cough it back up, the spicy flavor making her eye water for a moment, but she held it down before leaving with another thank you. On the way to her room she kept yawning. Perhaps it was in the potion's effects to make one drowsy…for she had a difficult time so much as walking to her room. She managed a sleepy tug at the door, before swaying and falling face-down into her pillows, asleep before she even landed.

_"Just a hint…"_

Minnie was hanging in a floating space. It was a thick, poison green, and images circled around her as she hovered in the dream space. Her eyes were wide at everything that was coming in so quickly.

_"If it were not for that mistake I would never have had you,"_ sobbed the voice of Nergal, _"But if I never made that mistake I would have never lost her. Fate has rarely been kind in what I lose-"_

_"Showeth me Laore"_

And what Minnie saw gave her mind violent shocks of realization. The woman lying on the thick grass, taunted by the man in black. Dusty pictures from a wedding long past. The tears and howls of her uncle Nergal, maddened with grief and longing. And a thick red scar, tainted and impure, on a woman who chose not to forget-

And Minnie jolted back to the conscious realm. Laore! Laore! She remembered!

But something was still wrong, even though Minnie had realized the truth once again. Like creeping vines, a strange and foreboding amnesia was tugging them away again. She repeated them over and over to ward it off, before yanking out her diary. She flipped the flowered pages to a fresh one and scribbled a new one.

**_Remember Laore whom Nergal loves and whom loves Nergal, _**she began to jot down._** Saint Martha's Sanatorium for the Disabled and the mocking Senior. Laore scarred, Laore broken. Laore in the corner of the Wedding.** _Minnie surveyed her notes. They were hurried and untidy, but cryptic enough to keep her knowledgeable while others would be less so. Then, remembering the amnesia episode, she wrote.

**_Laore forgotten?_**

"Brother, I beg thee to accompany me."

"What? What's wrong Minnie?"

Junior was puzzled as Minnie tugged him to her room for privacy, careful that their parents had not arrived home early. She huddled and whispered with him, feeling more conspiratorial than ever. "I believe something foul is afoot," she whispered, "I thinketh our dear uncle is suffering from a woe most pained and our parents the deviants behind it."

"What? Why? I mean," Junior stuttered and stumbled before correcting himself, "I know Mom and Dad aren't perfect and all…but this is heavy stuff Minnie. You sure?"

"Most so brother," Minnie nodded. "I thinketh a trip to visit Grandpa Nergal is in order."

"What? But I thought he died when…Y'know…" Junior stuttered.

"So did I brother," Minnie nodded, "I think he has made an escape most stealthy in this case."

"But Minnie," Junior said with a slight plea in his voice, "What is troubling Uncle Nergal?"

Minnie only sighed quietly, before glancing at her diary full of clues and secrets. "Only that which vexes all it touches."

Junior caved in, and with a swipe of his scythe he cut a hole to the Center of the Earth. While hot and teeming with Nerglings, there was still the horned and dark castle of Nergals, Nergal Junior's old home. Minnie looked over her diary. Since her dream episode, she had stuffed it with family photos of the Nergals, even of obscure relatives to provide hints. Unfortunately Minnie's great aunt Sis had died before she ever got to know her grandchildren, but with the life still brimming here it became more and more apparent that Nergal Senior was alive and well.

Minnie made to knock on the door, but the simple force of her rapping knuckles let it open with a slow and chilling creak. The siblings looked hesitantly at each other before slipping in. The castle was smaller on the inside, and would have looked like a regular home were it not for the heavy sense of loneliness in its halls. A kitchen with a checker-print cover and small decorative salt and pepper shakers was dusty. The sink, the cabinets, all of them were gray with age and unused. There were rooms with no people. Minnie dared to peek into her Uncle Nergal's old room, only to wince. Like he had told her while she was growing up, he had been a misbehaved and lonesome child. Severed toy heads were stacked in a pile in the corner. Books nearly buried the bed which was far too small for Nergal now, and still messy.

Minnie felt a stab of pity for her grandfather. To what lengths had he gone to in order to insure nothing changed?

"Minnie, look."

Junior tugged on his sister's arm and pointed to a flight of stairs. It led to the attic, and a light was on. Minnie took a deep breath and walked up to knock on the door. She heard a faint jump behind, as if startled, but nothing happened. With a double dose of boldness, she opened the door.

She first saw his good shoes before she saw Nergal Sr.

His appearance hadn't changed, but like he'd been seen in the crystal it was warped by cunning. And now, somewhat, by fear and suspicion. But he managed a grin when he saw his grandchildren at the doorway.

_"_Minnie! And Junior! How delightful, please come in, have a seat-"

He strode across the attic room and retrieved a pair of stacked chairs, dusting them off before putting them in front of his own chair, made of dark wood and a green velvet. While he was genuinely happy to see his relatives, the shadows on his twisted face lingered. "But…but…" Junior stuttered as he was ushered to a chair. "I thought the monster ate you."

"Ach that was nothing," Nergal brushed off, taking a seat once Minnie and Junior were situated. "Merely a body they gave to a lingering memory I left in you to help you along. Err…didn't feel too pleasant I wager?" he asked a little cautiously.

"They ripped it to shreds," Junior pointed out bluntly, "That's the complete opposite of pleasant."

"Urgh," Nergal shivered, privately happy it had not really happened. "Perhaps it was good that it was just a silly memory is all." Nergal Sr. then snapped his fingers, "Oh! While you're here, have I ever told you about the time when my great-grandmother Phyllis accidentally-"

"Grandpa." cut off Minnie, "I want to know what happened to Laore."

Much like his son, there was an immediate physical reaction to these magical words. For once Minnie held back the poetry, wanting to catch her grandfather off guard this time to ensure the truth. Nergal Sr. gave a hard flinch, his feet jolting as if ready to run for the door. Minnie could see the cunning on his face return in a guilty pose. Junior could only look between them in utter bewilderment.

"Minnie?" Junior dared to whisper. But Minnie and Nergal Sr. seemed to not hear them, locked in a quiet contest.

"My dear Minnie," Nergal Sr. said in an offhand fashion, "I have no idea-"

"Yes you do Grandpa," Minnie corrected, "When I peered into thine crystal ball, I had seen thyself with her. I know most of the secrets we have been kept from. Tell me what happened."

In a slight reaction to Minnie's low growl, Junior's hoodie sweatshirt writhed and threatened to unravel into tentacles, making Junior nervous. Nergal Sr.'s face finally twisted into a grim and solemn expression that made him look fairly nasty. Junior shifted in his seat entirely uncomfortable.

"They should have buried that woman long ago," Nergal Sr. said in a low voice, "Then she might not have been as capable of haunting those that matter."

"She came to me that night they fought, the night my son was with Mandy you know. Perhaps she thought that I might have warmed up after all this time to…ha! Someone like her? It was utter nonsense of course; we trusted each other about as far as we threw each other. But I was intrigued nonetheless. 'Where did you get that cut I wonder?' I asked her. She didn't appear to hear me at first, but she finally had to nerve to ask me where my son was. I didn't know of course, but I humored her for a while. 'Where he belongs of course,' I told her. 'Where he's always belonged.'

"She did try to convince me she was not angry. But how could she be? That scar my son gave her isn't a normal wound. No wounds made by us Nergals ever heal properly, unless given care by the Nergal responsible. I merely told her 'If you're so worried, then wait for him a while. He'll come around.' She clearly did not like this option, but I was able to coax her back home."

"When Grim came by the house to inform me of my son's scandal I can't tell you how pleased it made me. My own boy, finally with a lady worth being with. Did you know they were together as children at one point. It ended nastily, but I knew they'd wind up together somehow and this was the proof. After Grim left I went looking for Laore. I wanted her to move on so that when the day came that my son did come looking for her he'd see how much better off she was, how better off they both were and leave. But…" Nergal Sr.'s expression twisted into frustration, "Found her in a damned sanatorium! She'd attempted suicide when my son didn't come back. That wouldn't do…if there was one thing that could ruin my son it would be something like that. So I tried to convince her she was sane, that she needed to move on, but unfortunately she was wary of me and refused to speak. Wouldn't say a word or listen."

There was a heavy pause, like sun before the storm. For a moment Minnie could believe she could still hurry to the sanatorium now, tell Laore the truth, and bring her back to Uncle Nergal to be together forever again. But at the closed eyes of Nergal Sr., his clasped hands and the look of regret on his face, she could see that possibility blotting out all the light and hope for such a thing.

"Grandpa," Minnie urged desperately,_** "**What. Did you do. With Laore_?" she punctuated her statements clearly. Junior was staring at them both, teetering with anticipation of what would happen next.

"I put her in the Oubliette."

There was a faint snarl of anger from Minnie before Junior became writhing and alive with tentacles that lunged at Nergal Sr., who could only yelp and howl as they bit and scratched at him, expressing Minnie's rage as Junior gasped and tried to back away.

"The Oubliette?**_ The Oubliette? _**How could you!"

Far away, away from the shrieks of rage emitting from the Center of the Earth, there was a dark and hollow space. It had a vast cave-like roof, stalagmites and stalactites pointing from top to bottom in the giant cave. It was big enough to hold several large cities with room to spare, and had many floating islands hovering in its enormous space. Thick iron chains, thicker than the trunk of even the mightiest tree, linked them all together. When one peered closely enough into the dark space, there were flickering lights from the islands, their inhabitants moving around quietly.

And in the Oubliette, floated Saint Martha's Sanatorium for the Disabled, complete with its giant buildings, outer structures, the picturesque garden, and one patient.

The doctors, nurses, and other invalids had vanished. The hospital's place in the Human Realm was nothing but a thick crater filled with frightened and confused residents. However none of their terrors could match that of Laore, left to rot in the Oubliette, whose name had already slipped the minds of the doctor's who'd tended to her.

Laore was still frozen on the floor of the front door. She had awoken to the horrible sound of cracking an rumbling, fierce winds shattering the windows and vibrations causing objects to fall pell mell from their spaces on shelves and desks. Afraid she'd been caught in some horrible weather phenomenon, she hurried to door and opened it just as everything went still. She stepped out a foot-

-and almost fell out.

She'd cried out and managed to pull herself in, securing the door, but she was still shaken. The place where there should have been a sidewalk was gone. Below were dangerous looking spikes, ready to skewer anyone clumsy enough to trip over the edge.

Laore wanted to scream. But it was not her logic, who insisted that it was pointless and useless and that she ought to pick herself up and look for a way out, that silenced her. Rather it was the horrible suspicion that Nergal Sr. was still hanging around, waiting for a chance to catch her with her mouth open. Every since the night she'd last spoken he'd sought a chance to have her speak, for it would be a victory if she opened her mouth and managed even a refusal to his proposal. Silence was the only way to win…especially after what she'd attempted…

She could taste the faint memory of aspirin and shuddered. She hated taking aspirin now…it had been a reminder of how low she'd dropped, how pathetic and desperate she'd been to reunite with…with…

Laore forced herself upright, tugging on the worn hem of her green dress. Get a hold of yourself girl, she reminded quietly. Now is the time to investigate.

She searched the hospital for anyone else that might be left. But there was neither hair nor hide of anyone, merely a collection of rooms and belongings. The electricity had gone out, clearly incapable of running in the cavern, but the plumbing and pipes seemed to be functional enough. It was a good sign. For now, to deal with the darkness, Laore gathered a flashlight and spare batteries to search.

She finally searched the garden and outbuildings at the back of the hospital. She was relieved to see it was all here, although she was terribly alone as she wandered through. Most of the trees surrounding the hospital had not made the trip, but a few had roots stubbornly clinging to the earth that remained, hanging out like look-out peaks from the sides of the floating hospital.

"Ooh ah! I love rock n' roll! Boom chickah!"

Laore jumped at the sound of singing, and turned around, hiding behind one of the stately hedges. To her amazement, a tall green, something, came climbing up the side of the island, looking around as his head bopped to a made up rock song. He was gangly and tall, with long black hair and goggles, wearing a strange costume of furry leather. He had a large bag hoisted over his shoulder, scrounging for effects no doubt.

"I…hello?" Laore called out. The green man jumped and tripped in surprise, whirling around to see who spoke. "Ack! Whozerr? Come on now show yerself!" he called out to Laore in a slight British accent, and Laore had to ponder slightly how such a man ended up like that before stepping out. The green man's eyes widened as he looked Laore over.

"Aha! A young lady!" he bowed deeply, "An' wot kinda business might you 'ave with old Creeper eh ma'am?"

"Creeper?" Laore echoed in confusion.

"That be me ma'am. Monster, inventor, and henchman extraordinaire, 'atcha humble service."

"Its nice to meet you. I'm Laore." she said politely, much to the delight of Creeper. Now that she stood a little closer, he wasn't very tall at all, but only came up to her shoulders.

"A real lady eh? No one'll believe I'm a _lady's_ henchman, no sir."

"Creeper," Laore said, looking around, "Where exactly am I?"

Her new acquaintance's face fell, "Ach, it not be lady talk ma'am." he muttered, "No, not a nice place to be, best be along, there's a girl-"

But Laore held firm. "Didn't you say you were to be my henchman?"

"Arr, that I did ma'am." Creeper sighed, before pulling his bag upright and walking forward to look around. "Well I regret to tell you…that you're in…" he paused dramatically. "_The Oubliette_."

"I…see…" Laore said finally, in a cool voice. Well she had no idea what on earth and Oubliette was. "And what, per say, is a place like this for."

"Ack, ask no more ma'am." Creeper sighed as he rummaged through the storage shed, putting scrap pieces in his bag. "It be unfortunate enough that yer her, poor old Creeper don't want to say it."

"Creeper," Laore said in warning, "If you wanted to be my henchman then you need to at least be ready to tell me the truth."

Creeper sighed again, in a deeper tone that made him sound very upset to say it. He turned to face Laore, and she was astonished to see his face weighed down with clear disappointment, mostly self-reflected.

"It ain't a nice place," he said mournfully, sitting down on a large, upside pot. "'Specially for ladies."

"But in truth and Oubliette," he said with hesitance, "Is a place where you put folks….to forget about them."

Laore's blood went cold. The world was a godless, hopeless place, encased in cold diamond ice without any beauty or mercy. No, no, no…it couldn't be. She had held onto her memories with a vice-like grip, praying and wishing and hoping that they would come to fruition, wanting so desperately to see Junior cross the threshold of the hospital so she could say just how sorry she was, to hear his apologies and for all to be forgiven so she could hold and smell and feel him again-

"Ma'am! Ma'am! Wot's wrong?"

Creeper was in a panic, hovering over her. Laore was surprised to see her legs had given out as she crumpled on the grounds of the garden. "What's going to happen?" she asked in terror, unable to disguise her voice with cool logic. "What did you mean by 'forget'?"

"It means you ain't remembered no more ma'am," Creeper said apologetically, "People go on and forget aboutcha. Mind you it takes some time, coupla days mebbe, but it 'appens. I'm very sorry I had to tell ya this but choo were a bit pushy I say."

"_Junior_," Laore managed to cry out, before blacking out. The cry echoed out in the giant Oubliette, and in the hot pits of Hell, Junior swore he felt something tug on his heartstrings as he ordered his troops. He simply wasn't sure what it was.


End file.
